Lightning in My Palm

My palms were sweating — like, actually dripping — as I stood frozen in front of Tyler at Liz's party. Some sophomore had spilled blue punch on my new white sneakers twenty minutes ago, and I'd been running between the kitchen and bathroom trying to save them with paper towels.

"Your hair's messed up," Tyler said, reaching out like he was gonna fix it.

I jerked back. My hair, which I'd spent forty minutes curling because I heard he liked girls who actually tried, was probably ruined by now. The bathroom mirror had showed me a frizzy disaster, half-fallen waves everywhere.

"Thanks," I muttered, feeling my face burn. "I gotta... find my friend."

I bolted toward the back door, practically running into the night air. Florida humidity hit me like a wall. The pool area was empty except for some guy sitting on the edge of the deck, legs dangling.

"Party too much?" he asked.

"Something like that."

I sat beside him without thinking. Up close, I recognized him — Marcus from AP Bio, the quiet guy who sat in the back and always looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else.

"Tyler Clarkson being a tool again?" Marcus asked.

"How did you —"

"Everyone knows Tyler's a walking red flag." Marcus cracked the smallest smile. "I saw you, like, running away from him earlier."

I groaned, letting my head fall into my hands. "I literally cannot bear to think about it. I spent forever getting ready, and —"

"You look fine," Marcus said. Then, like he realized how that sounded: "I mean, your hair's... it looks good. The curls work."

Before I could respond, lightning split the sky — this massive purple-white flash that made the pool glow for a split second.

"Shit," Marcus said. "That's close."

"I love storms," I admitted.

"Me too." He paused. "My mom says I should've been a meteorologist instead of torturing myself with AP sciences."

I laughed, and it surprised me — genuine, not the fake laugh I'd been using all night inside.

"You know," I said, "this is literally the first time I've actually, like, talked to you."

"Yeah, well." He shrugged. "I'm not exactly Mr. Social. And you're always with Taylor and them."

"Taylor's my sister."

"No way."

"Way."

Lightning flashed again, closer this time, and instinctively I moved closer to Marcus. He didn't pull away. We sat there as the first drops started falling, watching the storm roll in, and I realized my palms weren't sweating anymore.

"Hey," Marcus said suddenly. "Want to get out of here? There's this place down the road —"

"Yes," I said, before he could finish.

We stood up together, and the rain started coming down in sheets. Neither of us ran for cover.